“You’ve got blood everywhere.” Mumbling the truth, I look up at him and notice the flecks in his beard and the chunks clinging to his hair. It’s like he spent time rolling around in it.
He must’ve hurt a lot of people while he was away. People who deserved it.
“I don’t want you to see me like this.” Admitting his thoughts, he grimaces at the streak of red flowing down the drain. “You shouldn’t have to. This is—”
“This is something that comes with being yours, Judge.” Stopping my touch shy of his lower stomach, I drag my hands back up his chest. “I can handle a little blood.”
I don’t need to know who it belongs to or how it happened. All I need to worry about is this man coming back to me any time he gets tangled up in trouble.
“Now bend down and don’t get your hands wet.” Trying to put a little authoritative tone behind my words, I manage a smile when he listens.
I’ve always wanted to wash him like this. Washing his body is one thing, but cleaning his hair and beard feels even more personal. It gives me little butterflies.
“I’m going to pay you back for this.” Mumbling his promise, I shiver as his breath brushes against my skin.
Now is not the time to start getting tingly.
“You don’t owe me for a thing.” Huffing softly, I glide my fingers against his beard. Flattening my hands on his cheeks, I stand on my toes to kiss him. Attempting to hide my smile, I graze his mouth with mine. “I love you, Samuel.”
Four words I should’ve said before. Right now, I feel like there won’t possibly be a better time than now to make sure he knows for certain.
13
Judge
I struggle to register what she just said. A phrase I’ve dreamed of her saying just left her lips, didn’t it?
Reaching for her, her eyes grow wide. Even more when I cup her face. God, she looks pretty when she’s this pink. I’ll never get used to it.
“Judge, your hands—”
Tilting her head back, I barely notice the way the water soaks the fabric as I drag her mouth to mine.
“Fuck, Pen. Say it again.” Groaning against her mouth, I pull back far enough to look in her eyes. “I need to make sure I didn’t take a hit to the head.”
When she laughs, I know I’m not imagining things. “I love you.”
My body throbs in pain as I walk her backwards. The little sounds that leave her once I’ve got her pressed up against the cool shower tile threaten to drive me mad.
“I need this more than I can ever explain.” Groaning, my hand runs carefully down her body. I’ll be careful not to reopen my wounds, just dealing with the sting of the hot water. Completely worth it when it comes to getting to feel her.
Her laugh melts into a moan as I suck a mark into her throat.
After everything I’ve gone through, this feels like a reward. One I want to drown myself in.
Covering her from the stream of water, the suds run clear down the drain. Steadying my breathing, I watch as she catches her bottom lip between her teeth. “My heart is yours. It always has been.” Stepping closer, I groan low at how flushed she is against my body. It takes all the strength in my body not to grind against her.
Every movement is a fresh wave of pain. My ribs scream, my back protests, a symphony of agony conducted by the recent fight. But the ache she’s stirring low in my gut is a different, more compelling kind of fire. It drowns out the rest.
Her hands slide up my chest, her fingers skimming a bruise, and I hiss through my teeth, not in pain, but at the sheer, overwhelming need of her. Her eyes are heavy-lidded, hidden beneath a layer of glaze.
“Judge,” she whispers, her voice husky, her hips tremble once my hands reach them.
I want her.God, I want her. But not here. Not against the cold, wet tiles of the clubhouse shower where any of the prospects could wander in. Not where the brothers could see her like this—flushed, pliant, and utterly mine. They don’t get to see this. No one does.
“I know what you need, Pen,” I grind out, my voice rough as gravel. I catch her wandering hands, lacing my fingers with hers to still them. “But you’re not getting it here.”
A frustrated little whimper escapes her, and she tries to press closer. I hold her firm, putting a precious inch of space betweenus that feels like a mile as I shut off the shower and snatch one of the towels she’s grabbed.
